Malediction
by Saerzion
Summary: A chilling premonition forewarns Joshua Graham of the Wasteland's imminent reaping, but for all his redemption in the years since the fall of the Malpais Legate, one question still endures: Where will you hide when the devil comes knocking?


**(September 2281)**

He woke to the sound of his own heart thundering, the force of it beating a wild rhythm against his ribcage. The bandages covering his body felt more suffocating than usual as he sat up on his bedroll and scanned the dimly lit interior of Angel Cave. Although he saw nothing out of place, a shudder ran through him. The air held an oppressive weight, quiet but persistent, and for the first time in years, a strong sense of dread crawled its way up his spine.

Hastily, he climbed to his feet and secured the .45 Auto pistol at his waist before grabbing his Scripture on the way out. A silent prayer left his lips as he exited the cave and emerged into the twilight of Zion, where several Dead Horses greeted him in passing. He disregarded their bewildered looks when he moved on without answering, as they would learn of the situation soon enough.

His boots splashed through the shallow stream on his trek to the Sorrows camp, the vivid images still circulating through his mind's eye. He'd long had his fill of encompassing flames, yet they came to him once again. Only this time, the projected destruction had shown something more than merely his own demise. Greater in magnitude, frightening in its content.

He reached the camp of the other tribe just as the first rays of the sun lit the sky. His heaving breath warmed the bandage across his face, but the cold trepidation lingered in his stomach. Pale blue eyes surveyed the area until they settled on Daniel's idle form near the main campfire ahead. Nodding to a few Sorrows in his path, he maneuvered around them and approached the other New Canaanite.

"Daniel," he called, drawing the other's attention at once. "There is something we need to discuss."

Daniel turned toward him and searched his face. "Joshua? What is it?"

The tribals lingering around the campfire recognized the severity of the impending discussion and moved away to give the two men a measure of privacy. Joshua glanced at the holy text in his hand, his furrowed brows belying his collected composure.

"It seems your preference to evacuate the Sorrows will be our course of action," he replied. "However, we still need tools to help us navigate beyond Zion. We have to figure out, quickly, who will gather them."

Daniel started in surprise, eyebrows shooting toward his hairline. "You… you've changed your mind about exterminating the White Legs? Why? What's happened?"

Joshua's haunted gaze bore into him. "Nothing yet, but something will. And we must be prepared. We have to be away from here."

Confusion crossed Daniel's expression, but he certainly wouldn't argue. "All right, yes. Of course. I'm grateful we're deciding on this. But what's wrong? I've never seen you look so unsettled before."

The stares of the Sorrows from across the camp had fixed in their direction. Joshua detected their curiosity and worry, their desire to know what troubled the Dead Horses' acting war chief. He wished to appease their concerns, but this matter went beyond them all. An imminent day of reckoning loomed on the horizon, unstoppable in nature and devastating in force.

A few more seconds passed before Joshua answered. "I experienced something in my sleep earlier. Not a dream, but a vision. A message. I believe it was sent by God."

Daniel seemed torn between skepticism and unease. "What kind of message?"

"A warning."

His words hung between them, ominous and chilling. He moved his attention to the orange blaze of the waning fire, losing himself in contemplation until he began to understand the links, the connections that formed the message. Redemption gave no sanctuary from the past, no matter the degree of reform; what was done was done. Now they would reap what he had sown.

And as a plague of injustice, the Mojave would pay the price.

"During my time in the Legion, before the Battle of Hoover Dam, the Frumentarii dragged in a man and shoved him to the ground at Caesar's feet," Joshua declared, tightening his grip on the Scripture. "A self-proclaimed seer, evidently. Caesar thought it would be entertaining to have the poor wretch predict our chances for success at the battle. Of course, no matter the man's answer, he was due for crucifixion once we tired of his 'ramblings.'"

"That's appalling," Daniel commented. "You've never mentioned this."

Joshua inclined his head. "Indeed. Although I am honest about coming to terms with my history, this incident was… something else entirely. Caesar soon lost all patience with the babbled predictions, and the task of the killing blow fell to me." He shifted his weight, the memory prickling his skin. "But then, the man asked to bargain. And from his bowed position, he looked up."

Daniel stepped closer, morbid inquiry written across his features. "And then?"

As if manipulated by a supernatural hand, the fire went out, taking the surrounding warmth with it.

"I had turned from my faith, but it still lived in my core," Joshua told him, gaze lifting to the darkening skies. "You, too, would know, Daniel… never bargain with someone whose eyes are pure black."

x-x-x-x-x

**(August 2277)**

The Malpais Legate straightened and cracked his knuckles, feeling the abused joints protest as the sound of maniacal laughter continued around them.

"Still chortling," Caesar remarked from his spear-lined throne at the far side of the tent. He toyed with the feathered collar of his regalia and then smoothed a hand over his receding gray hairline. "Once more, Legate."

Joshua glanced at him, but grabbed another fistful of the kneeling man's grimy tunic. Rearing back again, he drove his fist into a cheekbone that finally cracked after the fourth blow. The laughter ceased immediately, and the man grew silent behind his straggly brown hair. Joshua released him, watching him crumple back to the ground.

"At last, nice and quiet. That's more like it," Caesar drawled as he rose and marched forward with a gait that spoke of tyranny and power. He stopped next to Joshua, leering down at the squirming form of the bound captive. "If you had shut the fuck up in the first place, you could have spared yourself the preliminary beating."

The man declined to answer, his face still hidden and lowered to the dirt.

Joshua looked to the only other witness in the area, the leader of the Praetorian Guard. Lucius stood off to the side, his neutral countenance contradicting the anticipation in his shoulders, wry amusement and malice reflected in his gray irises. Joshua peered back at the prisoner, frowning. Neither of his comrades shared his reservations, then. Caesar reached down and yanked the disoriented man back to his knees, smacking him on the head until he stopped teetering.

"All right. Let's try this again," Caesar snapped as he drew himself to his full height. "My men tell me you're a psyker, and you advertise yourself as a seer across the Mojave. So this is how it will go." He circled the captive at a leisurely stroll, the lilt of his tone changing to a dangerous pleasantness. "You give me your predictions about the Legion's chances of victory at Hoover Dam, and I may let you live. Or you refuse to speak a coherent sentence, and I will have you decapitated on the spot. Which will it be?"

Even though the man's frame quivered, pure consternation shot through Joshua's body. He adjusted the bulletproof vest of his SLCPD uniform as he broke out in sudden perspiration. The foreboding feeling had gnawed at him ever since the Frumentarii dropped off the seer, and its tangible intensity worsened with every second spent in the mysterious man's presence. Joshua enjoyed the occasional bout of terrorization as much as the next legionary, but something about this particular victim cautioned his instincts, kindled his apprehension.

"Well?" Caesar demanded, kicking the seer's ribs when he failed to answer quickly enough.

The man dissolved into a brief coughing fit before rasping out, "I'll predict your fortunes."

Caesar gave a sinister chuckle as he traipsed back to his throne and sat down. "Go on."

Lucius crossed his arms and sent the man an expectant smirk. Joshua stepped a few paces back to put some distance between him and the captive, noting the torrent of blood that further stained the filthy clothing and pooled on the ground. The man had yet to raise his head, and the unknown visage beneath the messy brunette locks only added to the eeriness about him. His musculature lacked mass, and his mental state seemed far gone, but a lurking essence beneath the physical constraints sang a twisted prelude of forthcoming peril.

And only Joshua heard the call.

"You shall triumph atop the bridge of Hoover Dam," the man wheezed, dribbling out more streaks of crimson from his mouth. "You will have your victory. You will win against the NCR. You will conquer New Vegas for your Rome. And all of the Mojave will know the glorious legacy of Caesar and his Legion."

Joshua scowled at the hollow quality of the oracular declarations, but dared not retort as Caesar's boisterous guffaws rang out over them.

"Do you hear that, Lucius? The seer confirms what we already knew," Caesar hooted, joined in merriment by his third-in-command.

"Yes. He must be that desperate to save his neck," Lucius agreed.

"What do you think, Legate?" Caesar asked as his mirth wound down. "You will be the one to lead my army into the battle. Does this simpering fool speak the truth?"

Joshua tensed and glowered at the trembling man. An irrational bout of rage simmered under his skin, provoked by the veiled taunt of the empty prophetic words. His pride on the line, he pushed aside the anxiety that had built in his gut, wrapping a hand around his holstered pistol and addressing the captive at his mercy.

"You have one more chance to relay your actual thoughts, not what you believe will spare your miserable life," Joshua rumbled, the menace in his timbre reverberating throughout the tent. "If you mock us again, you have already forfeited survival."

A long silence followed.

And then the insane laughter started again.

"I've had enough," Caesar barked, motioning for Joshua to take the shot. "Forget crucifixion. I can't stand that annoying laugh. Let's be rid of him now."

"Wait," the man protested as soon as the .45 Auto pistol pointed at his skull. "Would you like to make a bargain?"

Joshua paused at that, the uneasiness seeping back into his abdomen. Lucius scoffed at his left, but Caesar shot to his feet at his right.

"You really are mental. What makes you think you can strike a deal with the leaders of the Legion?"

"Before I tell you my true prediction, you should know that I can make the first version—the one I just gave—come true," the man replied, a snakelike voice replacing his raspy wheezing. "You have but to agree to my meager request."

_No, Edward, don't,_ Joshua thought, trying to catch Caesar's gaze. _Something about this is off…_

However, the interest had been piqued.

Caesar regarded the man in calculation. "And what does a lowlife like you request of us?"

"Simple," the seer answered, slowly lifting his head. "Once I tell you of the less prosperous future that awaits you, just let me go, and I will do everything in my power to give you the more favorable outcomes." When his eyes appeared, they locked onto Joshua's, beckoning his soul into their endless black depths. "A fair exchange, no?"

Joshua faltered and backed away, his alarm skyrocketing when a cold tendril of horror curled around the petrified heart in his chest. The unnatural quality of the captive's entire being resonated in the solid blackness that roved over the three legionaries. Joshua swallowed when a long-forgotten emotion broke out of dormancy, inscribing the taste of fear onto his tongue. As the co-founder of the Legion, he loathed the feeling. Their faction committed travesties, ruled the weak, corrupted and forced others to bend to Caesar's will. They did whatever it took to fulfill their agenda for Wasteland domination.

But somehow, he knew…

This entity promised worse.

And Caesar, God help him, could only see his own humor instead of the monster poising its maw before his face. "Deal."

Joshua's pulse picked up when the seer's grin revealed a row of pointed teeth.

"Very well."

Lucius jolted when the man broke through his wrist bonds in one swift movement to point a bony finger at him.

"You there. Praetorian Guard leader. You will survive an ambush of 1st Recon snipers at Hoover Dam. However, watch your back, old-timer. The ranks of the Legion are filled with younger men each day, and it is only a matter of time before one challenges and kills you to take your place amongst the Guard."

Before Lucius could sputter an outraged rejoinder, the pointed finger went to Joshua, who raised the pistol again.

"And you, Malpais Legate. Beware the intoxication of victory," the man hissed, seeming to relish every word. "As a former man of God, you should know pride was the cause of Lucifer's downfall. Yours will cost you your status, your credibility, your appearance, _everything_."

Joshua squeezed the trigger ever so slightly as his arms began to shake, but when the seer's attention snapped to Caesar, he could only freeze and gape at the way its demeanor no longer resembled a human's.

"As for you, mighty Caesar," the man spat, drooling saliva and blood as the joints of his shoulders suddenly contorted in abnormal angles. "Oh, 'Son of Mars,' what a tangled web you weave under that fraudulent guise. What would the rest of your men say if they knew you were born Edward Sallow, son of an ordinary woman, and raised as a Follower of the Apocalypse?"

Caesar stood very still as the verities of his past poured from the stranger's mouth. Joshua detected the threat and fury in his posture, but he stayed his arm, for something more treacherous writhed in their midst.

"'Conqueror of the 86 Tribes,' as well? Unfortunately, you cannot conquer that which grows inside you: a sickness of the heart and mind. But which one comes first? Which one is direr? Tick tock, tick tock, it's up to the clock, but both will kill you," the seer screeched, rising to a standing position as if yanked up by a string. "And so concludes my prediction for each of your ends. But it does not have to be this way. I beg you now release me so I may change the hands of fate."

"Legate," Caesar said in a low, seething pitch, "kill this vile, insolent slanderer."

Joshua quelled the unsteadiness in his arms as he assessed the other legionaries' reactions. Despite the sight of the captive transforming into some horrendous monstrosity, neither Lucius nor Caesar displayed anything but fuming indignation. They ignored the distorting body, the hellish vocal intonation, the permeating smell of sulfur. As if the ordinary, pitiful man still kneeled there.

And then Joshua realized.

Only he could see the gnarling creature in front of them.

The seer's mouth widened to an inhuman diameter. "The deal, Caesar," it snarled, twisting its limbs to further deformity. "You promised to set me free…"

"Here's another name I go by: 'Breaker of Insignificant Deals,'" Caesar growled, pivoting on his heel and gesturing for Lucius to follow him to his strategy room. "Eliminate him fast, Legate."

The hairs on the back of Joshua's neck stood on end when he found himself alone with the nightmarish form of the seer. It gurgled as it paced back and forth a short distance ahead of him, the skin peeling from its face in grotesque chunks. Several dislocated bones in its torso clacked together all the while, and it finally halted when he steeled himself enough to aim down his iron sights.

"Joshua Graham, ex-Mormon and disgraceful missionary," it jeered, drawing closer. "Do you feel powerful in your place? Do you feel above the God you once served?"

He backed away when it continued to advance. "That is irrelevant. As is this conversation."

"Oh, but it is the most relevant of all," it insisted, stopping when his back touched the edge of the tent. "There was hope for you once, but you cast it aside in favor of commanding this Legion. With nothing but brainwashed minions to protect you, do you believe it wise to strike me down and anger me? Heed my warning: you will only fan the flames."

"Stop speaking and return to the inferno from which you crawled."

It cackled, a terrible noise that froze his blood. "Very well, then. When you fall from glory and your Legion crumbles, I will return for this land… for this world… for _your soul_," it whispered as the remnants of its lips sneered. "And now not even your God will save you."

Joshua's teeth clenched together as the racing of his heart bred a maelstrom of wrath and terror. When he could take it no longer, he made to pull the trigger.

"So tell me, Legate," the seer thundered, spreading out its elongated arms to accept his bullet. "Where will you hide when the devil comes knocking?"

_BANG._

x-x-x-x-x

**(October 2281)**

Benny hesitated, taking the cigarette from his mouth as he lowered Maria. "Come again?"

Courier Six shifted on his knees, still wearing the burlap hood. "I asked if your goal was to liberate New Vegas."

The Chairmen leader's eyebrows drew together as he scrutinized the kid anew. "Jessup, take that sack off of him, will ya?"

Trudging over to do as told, the Great Khan swiped away the hood to reveal a head bent forward and hidden beneath a mane of brown hair.

Benny stepped closer to get a better look. "That's a damn good guess. How'd you know?"

Scrawny shoulders shrugged underneath the worn tunic. "Had a hunch."

"Uh huh. Sure." Benny crouched down in front of him. "Seriously, who are you?"

"Someone who can help you with your goal."

"That so? Think I could use you, huh? Like you'd actually be able to do anything with what I have planned."

The Courier raised his face, offering an impish smile as his black eyes gleamed under the pale moonlight. "Would you like to make a bargain?"

x-x-x-x-x

**A/N:** Just something quick and different I wanted to write. As of now it's a one-shot, but I may extend it down the road if anyone's interested. Many thanks for reading!


End file.
